In The Eyes Of a Child

26/4/2015

Dear Diary,

My hand feels sore just thinking about the last time I wrote something in this, but Dad says I can never buy another diary again if I don't fill up at least one. I suppose he has a point. My desk is brimming (read overflowing) with a jumbled assortment of notebooks, diaries and exercise books. And yet most are yet to be written in... Well, except this one.

Jasmine is supposed to come over today and I can't tell whether or not I'm looking forward to it. My head feels like one of the jigsaw puzzles in the kindergarten classrooms, muddled, broken and worn-out.

Sure she's fun and all, but she's not Carter or Margret or Taylor... I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.

I'm back and pleased to report that the day wasn't so bad.

Jasmine's hair was pulled back into a short pony tail, her sequinned shirt dazzling in the sunlight, when I opened the door. Looking at her, my outfit suddenly seemed inadequate - sleek black tights and a cat-patterned t-shirt. Meekly meeting her standoffish gaze, I offered her a quick smile. She didn't smile back, but she did let go of Ms Lee's hand and walk into the house, which I assume means she was happy to see me?

Side-by-side we watched in slight awe but more annoyance, as our mums managed to hold a conversation for an upwards of 5 minutes; we had never managed to do that. The moment we heard the clip-clop of her mother's retreating footsteps, we hurried towards the backyard. The monkey bars were gleaming, basking in the warm glow of the sun.

With no words having been exchanged, we bounded towards the vine-like bars.

That's how we spent most of the day: climbing, dangling, running. Never once talking - and I think I preferred it that way. 

Well, that's all for now! TTYL (I learnt that from Jasmine)